


Dr. MacKenzie

by Mel1



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Daniel Jackson/Jack O'Neill Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 01:00:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9212522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mel1/pseuds/Mel1
Summary: Dr. MacKenzie comes to the base to check on Daniel after he gets out of the padded room. Jack happens upon them and things get interesting. Dr. MacKenzie's POV. Note: I've never thought the doctor was the monster other writers have portrayed him as.





	

I entered Cheyenne Mountain and went directly to Dr. Jackson's office. It'd been a few days since his release from Mental Health following his incident with the Goa'uld technology and I wanted to check on him and make sure he was recuperating as well as possible.

I'd made a couple of phone calls in the past few days but Daniel hadn't returned them. Not that I blamed him; he might be consciously aware that all parties involved had acted in what they believed to be his best interest, it still ended up that he'd been restrained, sedated, and placed in a padded cell against his will.

Well, if Dr. Jackson didn't want to talk to me, I could make this brief. But I wanted to make sure he was recuperating after his ordeal.

I stopped at the open doorway to his office. Dr. Jackson was at his desk, reading an archeological journal. There wasn't a painkiller or medicine bottle to be seen anywhere.

"Daniel?"

"Oh. Hi. Hello." He seemed understandably perturbed to see his psychiatrist standing in his doorway. "Uh – dropping off or picking up?"

At least he was making jokes; that was a good sign.

"Neither." I smiled and walked into the office. "I just wanted to stop by and see how you're doing. I haven't had a chance before this."

"Oh." There was relief in Daniel's voice. "I'm okay. I'm good. A little tired. Still a little fuzzy, but it's getting better."

"That's the drugs working out of your system," I told him. "Be sure to get enough rest and drink lots of water. Some moderate exercise will help too. How are you other than that?"

The question seemed to confuse him. "What is there other than that?"

"Being committed to a psychiatric facility against your will for starters."

Daniel looked down and spoke gravely, "By the time you committed me, it wasn't against my will."

"You know, when I first read your chart and Dr. Fraiser's notes, I agreed with Colonel O'Neill: you've been under an enormous amount of stress, right from the beginning of the Stargate program. I wasn't surprised you were exhibiting symptoms of stress; knowing your complete history I was surprised it hadn't happened sooner."

Daniel looked up like he was going to ask what I meant, but I suppose he really didn't have to.

"When your blood tests seemed to confirm Dr. Fraiser's diagnosis, I agreed with her that you needed to be medicated and placed in a safe environment. I'm sorry I didn't consider alien technology but you have to admit it's still a pretty new field."

"You don't have to apologize," Daniel said. "You were the only one who believed me ultimately. You held off that last dose of meds until you called the base to check on Teal'c, then you released me based on my word alone. You don't have to apologize."

He closed the journal and set it aside and picked up another one. "Anyway, you're the only person who's actually come to see how I'm doing."

"Really? Not Colonel O'Neill or Major Carter?"

"No, not – not – I've talked since then but – I have to hear about how Sam saved the day, and how bad it was for Janet and Jack because they had multiple devices in them so since I only had one, apparently it wasn't as bad for me. And everybody was so worried about Teal'c and so glad that he's going to make it – "

He stopped there. "Not that I wasn't worried about him, not that I'm not glad he's going to be fine. Just – it's just – it's like nothing even happened to me."

Then a thought apparently occurred to Daniel. "Um – this isn't going in my file or anything is it? This isn't some sort of test or pop quiz or – or -."

I held up my hands. "Honestly Daniel, I'm here unofficially. You have nothing to fear." I indicated a chair. "May I take a seat?"

"Oh sure yes. I'm sorry. Would you like some coffee or something? I have a box of chocolate chip cookies that Katherine sent me from New York."

"No thank you, I'm fine." I sat down and set my briefcase on the floor next to me. "Is that Katherine Langford? Have you told her what happened?"

"Yes – no. Not exactly."

I wondered if he still thought this was all going in a chart somewhere. "Daniel, I  _am_  your doctor, and there is an ulterior motive behind all my questions."

"There is?" He sounded nervous.

"Yes. My ulterior motive is that I want to be sure you're all right and that you're getting all the support that you need. All the support that you deserve. And right now it doesn't sound like you are."

"I'm fine."

I know a challenge when I hear it. "So what  _did_  you tell Katherine?"

"I – uh – well – I – I didn't tell her anything. I called her yesterday, but just to talk to her. Just to hear her voice. She said I sounded odd and I told her I hadn't been feeling well. That's all."

"Why didn't you tell her the truth?" I asked.

"There's nothing she could do."

"She could care."

That took some wind out of Daniel’s sails. He slumped in his chair and stared at the top of his desk. "Yes, she could've cared."

"You don't think she would have?"

"No one else has."

As a licensed professional, I've learned to be objective with my patients, to know their pain without feeling it myself, to care about them without pitying them. Right now, I felt an enormous amount of pity for Daniel Jackson.

No, pity isn't the word. _Compassion_. I felt enormous compassion for him, for a man who'd been beaten down countless times and always got back up again and kept going, and yet who never seemed to be recognized for his achievements, his contributions, for his pain.

"I'm sorry,” Daniel continued after a pause. “I don't mean to sound self-pitying. Usually I'm not."

"Frankly, Daniel, I think you have every right to indulge in a little self-pity now and again. I don't know of any other SG team member who has endured everything that you have since starting this program. Even before you came here, life didn't smile especially kindly on you, did it?"

He shrugged, and I didn't say anything; I waited for him to elaborate on the shrug.

"In archeology, you learn to keep going. If you don't find what you want, what you expected, in the first burial chamber, in the first soil layer of a dig, you keep digging. Stopping to cry over what disappoints you keeps you from discovering what will amaze you. I learned to keep going."

"So how are you applying that experience to this situation right now?"

"I'm keeping going," Daniel said, ending with a puzzled look like he wasn't sure that was a grammatically correct sentence. "They're my friends and friends on occasion disappoint each other. I'm sure I've disappointed them. If I let all the disappointments in my life get to me, I'd – I'd be in a padded cell I guess."

He gave a forced chuckle, trying to joke, but I saw something more profound in his statement.

"Someday, Daniel, I would be greatly interested in doing an in-depth interview with you to discover the source of such remarkable resiliency."

"You think I'm not telling the truth?" He didn't sound annoyed asking it; he sounded like he was genuinely seeking information.

"On the contrary – I have undeniable proof in front of me that you are telling the truth." He gave me a puzzled look and I realized that as an archeologist, he needed his proof in literally concrete form. " _You,_ Daniel. You, sitting before me in a calm, even state of mind. Most people would be sputtering mad if not completely traumatized by an experience like you just had. Yet you can absorb the experience, assimilate it, and move on with your life. That's a rare quality Daniel, and for a man who has had a less than optimum support system for most of his life, it's even more remarkable."

At that moment, a figure in the doorway interrupted our conversation. Colonel O'Neill had joined us.

"Hey, what's going on?" He looked from one to the other of us, and I had the distinct sense of implied threat in his voice.

"Dr. McKenzie came to see how I'm doing," Daniel explained.

"He's doing fine," Jack told me.

" _He is_?" Daniel and I asked at exactly the same moment.

Jack looked from me to Daniel. "That's what you tell me every time I ask you.  _Daniel_?"

Daniel closed his journal and very deliberately smoothed out the cover. "I'm fine." He didn't look up at either one of us.

"Doc?" Jack asked me.

No longer a perceived threat, I was now being solicited for a supporting opinion. There is a great amount of finesse required in dealing with raw emotions and still-healing psychic wounds. Add to that the plain fact that what Daniel had just told me, he had told me in confidence and I wouldn't break that. So I chose an indirect course.

"How are  _you_ , Colonel?"

"Me?"

"Yes, you. You had – what? Four of those devices inside of you?"

"Yeah." Clearly he didn't know where I was headed and he wasn't sure he liked the direction.

"As I understand, the effect was much more immediate and intense than what Dr. Jackson suffered."

"At least we knew what was happening and why. Nobody thought we were crazy, that makes it worse for Danny in my book."

Daniel looked up at Jack at those words, as though surprised at hearing them. Jack kept his eyes on me. He hadn't reclassified me as 'threat' yet, but he was considering it.

"You were lucky Samantha Carter was able to formulate a strategy for neutralizing the devices." I kept my voice light, as though I was merely engaging in conversation. Daniel's eyes stayed on Colonel O'Neill, who shrugged.

"Fraiser figured it out. Carter just happened to be the only person in the room not affected. The way she talks about it though, you'd think she was the goose who cooked the golden omelet." He smiled down to Daniel as though it was a joke they shared, but Daniel didn't return the gesture.

"What's going on?" Jack's voice took on the low measure of concern.

"Nothing,” Daniel told him. “I'm just – I – just – I'm tired. You know. The drugs are still working out of my system. I'm kinda fuzzy. It's okay. I'm okay."

"It's  _not_  okay. Why didn't you tell me? Why aren't you home resting?" When Daniel didn't answer that, Jack's voice grew even lower. "Why did you tell me you were 'fine' whenever I asked you?"

"I – uh – I  _am_  fine." Daniel glanced at me guiltily before lowering his eyes to his desktop again.

"Oh? 'Fuzzy'? 'Tired'? Doesn't sound 'fine' to me," Jack persisted. "Why didn't you tell me? Anything you need, all you have to do is ask. You know that."

"I didn't want to ask," Daniel answered sharply, suddenly angry. "I didn't want to  _have_  to ask." He sighed then with aggravation. He picked up his archeology journal, stood up and turned to his bookshelf. "Unless there's something else…" He was still angry. "I have a lot of work to catch up on."

"Yes, there's something else," Jack told him. "You can't go around telling people that you're 'fine' and then get angry at them when they believe you."

"You never believe me any other time, why believe me now?"

I sensed this was part of a long-simmering argument that hadn't been given its head before. I wasn’t sure either man remembered I was in the room.

"All right, Daniel, I'll admit when you said you'd gone to an alternate universe, I didn't believe you. But I don't  _never_  believe you. When you pull a rock out of the ground and tell me it says 'Plynthmyrl Loves Hezekiah 4-Ever' I believe you. When you explain the subtleties of the dining protocol of the foaming leech-heads on 4-4-R, I believe you. So when I ask how you're doing and you tell me 'fine',  _I believe you_."

"I was infected with alien devices, told I was mentally ill, pumped full of drugs and locked in a padded cell." Daniel's voice rose with distress. "How could I be fine after that?"

"Because you told me."

Daniel made a sound of derision. "Sam tells you she's fine too, that doesn't stop you from fawning all over her."

"I do not fawn," Jack argued.

"You do too."

"Not."

"Do."

"Not."

" _Do_ ," Daniel insisted. I half expected him to add, ' _infinity_ '. I found this an odd but reassuring exchange. This was the adversarial banter of close friends or siblings. Granted,  _much younger_  friends or siblings, but it still carried the undercurrent of affection. They were angry, but they did not hate.

"All right," Jack abruptly conceded. "I'm not saying it's 'fawning', but you know how Carter is. She says she's 'fine', you start to walk away and when you're this close –" he made a pinching gesture with his fingers " – to getting away clean, she starts in with the talking, the explaining, the sorting out her feelings and the oh-so-not-subtle hints for reassurance and affirmation."

"What about me?" Daniel asked. He was backed away close to his bookshelf, half in shadow. His voice had the soft, hesitant quality of  someone who doesn't want to hope too much for something he desperately wants.

"You? Daniel – you're like a car that runs on solar power. You know how you are. You come in here and bury yourself in your books and your research and your knowledge and it's like recharging your batteries. No matter how long you work, what time of the day or night it ends up being, how tired or discouraged you might've been going in, you come back out alive, enthusiastic, ready to go. So what do I know? When you say you're 'fine' and come down here, I don't want to be the cloud that gets between you and your – your power source."

Daniel didn’t say anything. I still wasn't sure either man remembered my presence and if their current tension was leading to some breakthrough, I didn't want to be the one to shatter that tension.

"So I'm a blind, insensitive bastard," Jack went on. "Maybe I did miss it because I  _wanted_  you to be fine, because I didn't want to face the part I played in all of it. You can't tell me you're surprised, Daniel. I thought you knew me better than anybody."

Daniel lifted his head and looked at Jack with confusion. "Face – what? What part did you play? You supported me longer than anybody, insisting it was stress and staying with me to keep me calm. You came to get me out of the hospital just as soon as Dr. McKenzie called you. You took me out of that place almost before I had the chance to change my clothes. You practically ripped my glasses out of the hand of that poor orderly who was trying to give them back to me and I'm still surprised you didn't get a ticket for blowing past that stop sign on the way out of the parking lot. What don't you want to face?"

When Jack answered, his voice was low and deadly calm. "I'm the one who made the call that got you sent to Mental Health."

"After I attacked you."

"You didn't attack me; you thought you were trying to save me."

For the first time since Colonel O'Neill came into the room, a smile appeared at the corners of Daniel's mouth. Judging from the expression on the rest of his face, it was a bemused but grateful smile.

"All right," Jack allowed again. "So maybe I  _reacted_  like it was an attack. When you collapsed before I could even get you to the bed – I was scared Daniel. Scared of what was happening to you."

"So why do you blame yourself for making that call? You were trying to protect me."

"Because I  _couldn't_  protect you. I made the call because I  _couldn't_  protect you. You know what it's like to see a friend torn apart in front of your eyes and you can't do a damn thing to stop it? I saw you in that padded cell and I  _still_  wanted to believe it was stress, that it was something you could overcome if only I could get you to focus, instead of having to see you locked away, scared out of your mind, pumped full of drugs by some shyster doctor who wouldn't know – "

"Uh – Jack?" Daniel kept his eyes on Jack but gestured with his head towards me. He pulled his eyebrows together and shook his head slightly. It seemed to take Jack a moment to decipher the message.

"Doc!" He turned to me in a broadly happy manner. "No offense! Just making a point!" He managed to smile and yet look worried both at the same time. Quite opposite of being offended, I was even further encouraged by the way Daniel automatically reacted to save Jack from saying too much. I didn't let on though.

"Actually it's 'shyster lawyer' and 'quack doctor'," I deadpanned.

"Right! Right!" Jack answered as though pleased to have the information. "I'll be sure to get it right next time!"

I raised an eyebrow but when he turned away I smiled at his discomfiture. Daniel caught my smile and returned it, then put a stern look on his face as Jack continued.

"So – Daniel. Whatta you say? Let me make it up to you. It's the weekend. You, me, pizza, hockey on the sports channel?"

"How about you, me, 'The History of Egypt' on the DVD player?"

To Daniel, Jack answered, "Sure! Great! Egypt!" To me he asked in a stage whisper, "How long could it be?"

"Actually it's a two disc set," Daniel informed him. "Ten hours total."

" _Great_." This time the fake enthusiasm in Jack's voice reminded me of deflating balloon.

"It's a documentary on Egypt's attempts to reclaim artifacts that were stolen or illegally removed from their country in the last two hundred years," Daniel sounded quite enthusiastic.

Even Jack sounded truly enthusiastic, "Wow!" until he added, "You must  _really_  be angry at me."

Daniel smiled but it didn't last. "I'm not angry."

Jack considered Daniel for several moments. "Doc, were you here the night Daniel came back from Abydos?" Jack asked me, not taking his eyes off of Daniel until the last word. Daniel looked at Jack, as though wondering where this was going.

"Yes, I was here," I said.

"When I was leaving that night, I found Daniel standing in a hallway, staring towards the Gate room. Besides fixing his glasses for him and issuing him some clothes, it seemed no one had given much thought to what to do with him. And Daniel didn't seem all that interested in the subject either."

I thought I knew the end of this story. Daniel had told me on at least one occasion that that first night Colonel O'Neill had taken him to his own home, taken him  _into_  his home. But that wasn't the end of the story Jack was spinning.

"I have the distinct impression that if Sha'are had been with Daniel that night, the SGC would've been subjected to a 'scorched earth' campaign the likes of which had never been seen before, until Mrs. Dr. Daniel Jackson had had every hospitality accorded her."

Jack was looking at Daniel but Daniel was looking down at the floor.

"Daniel, when it's family or friends or universes you're looking out for, nothing and nobody stands in your way. But when it's you, when you need something or want something for yourself alone, rather than make any kind of fuss, you always seem content to survive on whatever is left over. Sometimes, I expect, you survive on nothing at all."

Just as I was about to point something out to Colonel O'Neill, just as Daniel seemed to be steeling himself to take the blame, just as I fleetingly wondered if Jack was somehow trying to get out of ten hours of arcane Egyptian trivia, he spoke again, making the point I was about to make to him.

"So, I'm sorry, Daniel. I knew that about you and I ignored it. Sam gets a paper cut and the world has to acknowledge it. You get your head handed to you and you just pick up and go on without saying a word. I know that about you, and I ignored it. I'm sorry."

"No Jack that's not – " Daniel started to argue. "I mean it is, but it isn't. I just – I should've asked."

"And I knew you  _wouldn't_  ask," Jack persisted. "I believe that's called 'check mate'."

"So – you're admitting that I'm a King and you're a pawn," Daniel said.

"Yes!" Jack agreed immediately. "What? No! All right, never mind that." He made a gesture of pushing something away from himself and muttered, ‘ _pawn_ ’ under his breath. "Listen, Daniel – I was wrong and I'm admitting it. Take it while I'm offering it 'cause it could be your last chance."

Finally Daniel let out a long breath and smiled. "All right Jack. Thank you."

"You're welcome, now let's get out of here. We've got pizza to order and – " He stammered over the next words. I believe he was stalling, hoping that Daniel would offer him a reprieve from the DVD. No such reprieve was forthcoming. " – and stolen Egyptian stuff to find out about."

"Yes, Jack. I'll be right there. Let me just finish up with Dr. McKenzie and I'll meet you at your office."

That look stole into Jack's eyes again as he gazed at me, the not-so-veiled threat that doing anything to Daniel that Jack construed as 'harm' would render me 'toast'.

"Doc – don't you have just about everything you need here?"

"Almost." I decided that since Jack was on a roll with Daniel, I wanted one more opinion out of him before calling it a day. "When you walked in, I was remarking to Daniel that I'm amazed at his emotional stability. Anyone else in his place throughout this ordeal would've been severely traumatized. But – as you said – Daniel just picks up and goes on. That's a remarkable quality."

"I've never been like anybody else anyway," Daniel said, sounding as though he were apologizing for having emotional strength. "I guess I've never quite been – normal."

"You've always been normal, Danny,” Jack answered him immediately. "You've just never been  _average_." He smiled a goodbye at me then; the threat in his eyes no longer there. "See ya, Doc. Daniel – five minutes."

" _Yes, Jack_."

I stood up to take my leave. "Well,  _that_  was an interesting conversation,” I commented as soon as Jack was out of earshot.

"Yes, it was," Daniel said. He looked toward the door Jack had exited through.

"Didn't you know he felt that way about you?"

"Uhhh – no, I guess not.  _Obviously_." He sighed like he'd come to an uncomfortable conclusion. "I guess I must seem like a complete fool now."

"Not  _complete_ ," I told him. "And not for the reasons you might think."

"And what reasons do you think I think?"

" _I_  think that you think you're a fool because you wanted something –   _needed_  something – that was yours for the asking and you didn't ask."

"Yeah." Daniel nodded his agreement.

"Did you miss the part where Colonel O'Neill admitted he  _knew_  you wouldn't ask for help and yet he did nothing?"

"No, I got that part."

"Then who's the fool? The man who is so disoriented from pain that he doesn't know how to ask for help, or the one who  _knows_  the other man needs help yet hopes he never asks for it?"

Daniel considered this. "Wow. Jack really  _is_  an ass, isn't he?" He finally conceded.

"In this matter, I'd say so."

"So why do you say I'm not a  _complete_  fool? That implies you think I'm a little bit of a fool."

"Because you're making Jack sit through ten hours of Egyptian artifacts," I said. I reached down and took a DVD from my briefcase. "For this, I'd have him sit through my ten-part lecture on 'Academic Achievement in Science with Hemispheric Domain and Learning Style Preference as Related to Brain Compatible Instruction.'"

Daniel's face lit up. He took the offered jewel case and hurried out of the office.

_"Jack?"_

The end.

 


End file.
